F1 Driver X Driver

Pancakes- Max x Charles

Charles hummed quietly to himself as he trotted around the kitchen with a large red bowl tucked under his arm, a spoon in his other hand. He was lost in his own little world, music playing in his little mind. It was a beautiful Sunday morning, springtime. He had gone down to the markets earlier that morning, he'd run out of fresh fruit and small essentials.
It was such a beautiful day he was thinking about going for a swim down at the small beach or maybe a picnic.

In his kitchen sitting over the sink was a pair of lovely big windows, their frames made from oak wood. They opened outwards, the view overlooking large rolling hills that went on forever. Millions of grape vines from neighboring vineyards were spread out across the land, their leaves blowing gently in the warm breeze that was drifting through the windows into the small house. Rays of soft morning light shone across the kitchen floor.

Charles pottered around the room, picking up necessary pots, things like butter and other things.
He used a wooden label to scoop up the pancake mix he'd made from his red bowl. Carefully he poured it into the pan placed over the stovetop.

Birds sat on a large tree by the window chirping and going about their own birdy business, whatever it may be.

The pan sizzled, the edges of the batter cooking nicely. Charles picked up a spatula, flipping over the delicate pancake and letting it cook on the other side. He left the stove, rummaging through the drawers beside him for cutlery, wandering over to the overhead cupboards for two plates. The radio was playing quietly in the living room, Italian songs that he would sing along to absent-mindedly, swaying his hips to the rhythm.

As he passed it Charles flicked on the kettle, its roar starting quietly before it filled the whole kitchen. Charles sourced two mugs, placing a tea bag in one and coffee grounds in the other. He returned to the rising pancake, lifting it from the pan to plop it on the plate with the others patiently waiting to be eaten.

He set the cutlery and plates on the other side of the bench where three wooden stools stood proudly, cushions of different colors there to soften them.

Charles smiled to himself as he set out the toppings, fixing a knife he placed wonkily.

"Goodmorning baby," Max mumbled lazily, nuzzling his nose into the side of Charles' neck. He slowly slid his arms around Charles's small waist rubbing his stomach as he breathed in his sweet smell. Charles chuckled as Max closed his eyes, basking in the morning light. The smaller man's smile widened, turning in his husband's arms and slinging his own around his neck.

"Good morning handsome." Charles giggled as Max leant their foreheads together. They became quiet, starting to slowly sway together, Max humming off tune to the song playing, making Charles giggle. Max ran his hands up and down Charles' sides, grinning cheekily as he carefully lifted the fabric of his t-shirt. Suddenly Max swung them around lowering Charles into a dip. A surprised squeak came from Charles followed by a loud laugh. Max helped Charles stand up straight again, chuckling. He threaded his arms around Charles, his hands resting on the small of his back.

Charles smiled, attempting to swat away his hands. He pressed a peck to Max's lips before pulling out of his clingy embrace, turning to fix his attention back on their breakfast.

"What's all this?" Max said as he peered over Charles' shoulder, watching as he stacked the golden circles on the two plates.

"Breakfast my lovely," Charles said, pouring maple syrup over the small stacks.

"You spoil me," Max mumbled against the skin of Charles' bare neck, lifting his arms to once again hug him from behind.

"I like to. Caring for you is my job." Charles chuckled.

"And caring for you is mine." Max murmured.

"Exactly." Charles nodded, blushing slightly.

They chatted as they ate, feeding the delicious food to each other on their forks, Max gushing over Charles' cooking skills, laughing loudly at each other's cringy jokes.

Max booped Charles on the nose leaving sticky maple syrup on the tip. They laughed as they squabbled, acting like the little married couple they were. Charles tried and failed to get Max to try oatmeal with his pancakes resulting in a childish debate about correct pancake toppings.

Max washed up while Charles went off out into the garden. He watched his husband through the window as he cut fresh flowers, chickens and ducks alike, fluffing around his feet.

Max smiled watching him, unable to fathom how happy he was.

The two had retired from Formula one shockingly early. Max had six world championships, Charles had two. People had been outraged. Retiring such skill like theirs at only thirty was ridiculous, stupid.

Max was supposed to be the next Schumacker, Charles the next Hamilton or Vettel.

Yet, the two retired anyway, ignoring everyone else.
They got married, moved to the Italian countryside where they were unbelievably happy. Life was perfect, and peaceful and while they felt bad about retiring so early at times, they were happy. Neither one regretted their decision.

"Charles," Max called through the window, Charles' head flying up to look at his husband.

"Yeah, baby?" He called back, sprigs of lavender clutched in his hand.
A duck quaked loudly at his feet.

"I love you." Max grinned, watching Charles' confused expression melt into a wide smile, blush creeping across his pale cheeks. Charles blew a small kiss which Max pretended to grab in the air.

"Je t'aime bebe!"